


Op-Ed

by rosa_himmelblau



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 06:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20059519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: I wrote this as a sort of antidote toA View to a Kill.





	Op-Ed

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little cheerer-upper for people who read VTaK. I actually wrote this before I finished VTaK—I needed cheering up myself. *g*

"What did I tell you?" Hutch demanded the second Starsky walked through the front door of the apartment. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!?!"

"Uh—not to touch your guitar because I always get it out of tune?" Starsky guessed, having not a clue what his partner was so enraged over. It wasn't, he knew, a very good guess, but it came in ahead of "always pee on the newspaper," an answer that fit his partner's tone even if it didn't make any sense.

Hutch hadn't really been looking for an answer, and he wasn't really listening to the one Starsky provided. He was pacing the apartment, waving around a sheaf of paper. Starsky had the feeling he was going to roll it up and smack him on the nose with it any second.

"I TOLD you not to encourage her! I TOLD you she was unstable—at best! I told you she's been doing terrible things lately, but did you listen? NO! Because you never listen, you just hear the words 'hot sex' and you start panting and you want her to write it—no matter what the consequences!" Starsky sat down on the sofa, now avidly curious about the papers in his partner's hand.

"They're all unstable," Starsky pointed out, assuming Hutch was talking about one of the women in the building, though it could apply just as well to any woman anywhere, so he wasn't concerned that he didn't know exactly which woman Hutch was talking about. "Which one did you mean?"

"It's Mer," Hutch said ominously. "It's Mer, and she's—she's done something terrible."

Starsky winced. "Listen, I haven't talked to Mer in—"

"SHE'S DONE SOMETHING TERRIBLE!" Hutch repeated at the top of his lungs.

"Is there a lot of hot sex?" Starsky asked. He couldn't help himself.

Hutch flung the papers at him. "'Is there a lot of hot sex?'! Yes, there's a lot of hot sex! I'm having A LOT of hot sex!" Starsky was eagerly trying to put the pages in order when Hutch added, "I'm just not having it with you."

"What? How can that—" Starsky started reading the first page. "I'm dead?? How can I be dead? Mer wouldn't kill me, Mer always liked me best!"

"Haven't you been listening to me?" Hutch demanded, slumping next to him on the sofa. "That's what she does now, to guys she likes! I think it's menopause or something, it's made her insane! And now, with those guys in New Jersey—" He just sort of wilted. 

Starsky nodded. "We're doomed." Still, he started thumbing through the pages. "So—uh, who are you having sex with? Is it anybody I know?"

That was when Hutch grabbed the papers out of his hand and dope-slapped him with them. "Get out. Go home. Try to think of some way to stop her."

"But, couldn't we—I mean, just because she's writing you with—who IS she writing you with? But couldn't we still—"

"Get out!" Hutch repeated. "Go home. I'll call you tomorrow."

Starsky wanted to grab the pages out of his hand, but he was afraid to. Maybe if he called Mer later . . . .

"And think of some way to stop her!" Hutch yelled at his back.

"I'd rather throw myself in front of a train," Starsky said, once the door was safely closed.


End file.
